


whispers in the dark

by angelic_violets



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Lokyrie, Thor: Ragnarok, Valki - Freeform, it's late and i need sleep yet here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 04:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelic_violets/pseuds/angelic_violets
Summary: two short knocks, and one long. stupid, yes, but it's the only way val knows he's at her door at an ungodly hour.[in which they bicker during the day but have heartfelt conversations underneath the stars]





	whispers in the dark

**Author's Note:**

> oh hey y'all! i haven't posted on here in *grabs glasses* ...eight months but after seeing ragnarok and becoming absolutely obsessed, i turned to my favorite outlet to get my feels out: writing!
> 
> side note: loki deserves the WORLD ugh tom absolutely nailed his character development in this movie sksdklaslk i'm in love.
> 
> most of all, i hope you enjoy!!

“We don’t have to keep doing this, you know.”

Val stares at Loki for a moment, her gaze quizzical, before lifting the jug of ale to her lips and taking a sip. “ _You_ came to _me_ , remember? I didn’t ask to be woken up at 3 in the morning.” She then offers him the jug but he declines, instead watching as she screws the cap back on and places it on the floor between their feet.

The room is once more cloaked in silence. Loki steeples his fingers together, eyes shifting to the window where a vast galaxy stretches out before them. The road to Midgard is a long one, filled with uncertainties for both he and the warrior seated at the edge of the mattress beside him. "I suppose talking to you isn't the worst thing in the world."

A smirk touches Valkyrie's lips. "The feeling is mutual. But I'm under the influence of alcohol, so..."

Something like a chuckle reverberates from his chest. In other words, don't push it or she was liable to do something that she wouldn't remember in the morning. "Noted."

Their routine over the past two weeks is like clockwork: after a day's worth of squabbles over the most insignificant things, with Thor trying his best to get them to see eye to eye, Loki's restlessness has him sneaking into the ship's kitchen for a snack, wolfing it down, then heading to Val's door when it's obvious that he and an adequate amount of sleep aren't meant for each other.

He gives two short knocks, and one long. Stupid, yes, but it's the only way Val knows he's at her door at an ungodly hour. And despite her better judgement, she lets him inside, and they talk about any and everything against the backdrop of a galaxy with more mysteries than they happen to find within each other.

Whispers in the dark. Val doesn't like talking about her past, despite Loki being able to piece together most of it, and her knowing most of his—some of the stories she's heard are fables, but if it earns him a reluctant compliment or two, he sees no reason to correct her.

“So...” Val draws out slowly, a glint of suspicion in her brown eyes. “God of Mischief. What’s your angle?”

Loki’s expression darkens for a moment as he shifts his body towards her. He studies her face for what seems like an eternity, the intensity of his blue eyes seeming to open a window into her soul. “My...angle.” He repeats slowly, as though she hadn’t spoken English.

  
Val nods firmly. “I can’t imagine my presence alone is enough to draw you in.”

  
Loki laughs, albeit bitter, shaking his head. “Well, Val, I suppose my ‘angle’ is this: I spend every waking hour on this ship with a bevy of Asgardians who don’t trust me, my brother included, to a lesser extent. So after a day of judgemental stares and questions of ‘why is _he_ here?’ under their breath, I find myself unable to sleep but able to come and talk to someone who actually _does_ trust me. Even if it’s just because she’s drunk.”

She’s quiet. Which is rare for Val, so Loki knows that his frustrated confession has caught her off guard—a victory, even though it’s small. Because how many people can say they successfully managed to shut someone like her up?

A minute crawls by before Valkyrie speaks again. “Who says I trust you?”

The corners of Loki’s mouth quirk upwards at her attempt at a deflection. “I wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

He laughs when she huffs angrily, seeming upset that he could read her so well. Val rolls her eyes and bends down to grab the jug of ale, but Loki is quicker, grabbing her wrist seconds before and pulling her arm back up.

“Let go!” Valkyrie hisses, struggling against his grip—which in actuality isn’t all that tight, but she’s a little too drunk to put all of her strength to good use.

Instead of obliging her request, Loki simply tugs the warrior forward, bringing their bodies closer in proximity. There’s not much space left between them in the already cramped room—he can see the flecks of hazel in her brown eyes, can feel her trembling, and it has him wondering if her heartbeat has kicked up a notch or two like his.

It was strange, because he’d never met a woman who both fascinated and frustrated him at the same time. The weeks spent on Sakaar before Thor’s arrival with her had consisted of them constantly trying to one-up each other—hence their competition when Grandmaster asked them to seek out Thor.

Val still didn’t take orders from him. But now it seemed Loki was facing a very different Valkyrie than the one the world typically saw.

“What are you doing?” She finally asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Something we’ll either blame on fatigue or hard liquor in the morning.” And before she can blink his lips find hers, kissing her fervently if for no reason other than to satiate the curiosity of wondering what it would be like to do so.

Instinct tells Val to push him away, to act repulsed by his touch, but her brain is giving out mixed signals and she isn’t sure which to follow. Except for the fact that Loki’s lips are soft, the hand that once held her wrist is now resting on the nape of her neck, and none of this is a dream.

So she grabs a fistful of his shirt collar and returns the embrace, wondering if the ale is speaking or she’s actually enjoying the reality of making out with a man that typically invoked the ire of most who crossed his path.

They fall backwards onto the bed with Val on top, in control, just how she likes it. She breaks the kiss for a moment if only to breathe, to gauge if he's thinking rationally, wondering if he'll come to his senses and angrily demand her to get off him so he can return to his quarters.

But it doesn't come. His blue eyes are captivating in a way that without speaking a word, he beckons her to his lips one more, fingers reaching to tug at her dark brown tresses that fell loosely around her shoulders. As she adjusts herself to the curve of his body, Val swears she hears him moan, and it's enough to tell her that he isn't the only one who doesn't want this to end.

It has to eventually, though, she knows, because in the morning they'll reflect on tonight's events and go back to trying to rip each other's heads off. 

Then again, if tomorrow night ended like tonight...what could a few more petty fights hurt?


End file.
